


Of Taste and Temptation

by i_got_these_words



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_got_these_words/pseuds/i_got_these_words
Summary: Guan Shan wasn’t used to this: frank interest and brazen flirting. And he wondered, for a second, about the prudence of playing with a complete stranger, of toying with sin in skin-tight leather.But only for a second.Because those grey eyes were on him – studying him – like the man could read his every thought.Subdue his every doubt.And sate his every need.





	Of Taste and Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> ❈❈❈ Author's Note ❈❈❈
> 
> This is a purely self-indulgent piece.  
> Feel free to bite in ~

The pervasive pungency of perms, burnt hair and permanent dyes devasted the more pleasant redolence of papaya and passion blossom from the shampoo station, the pricey perfumes of clients who tipped more than was customary, and the peculiar white pansies at the reception desk that never seemed to wilt.

It was way past closing time and, as the most junior stylist on the salon’s roster, Guan Shan was used to being the last one to finish with his customers. To brush up the stray hairs around his station long after his colleagues had clocked out and gone home. To hum to himself in tune to the phantom noises of clients blithering, hairdryers blowing, and the desk phone bellowing.

He’d just finished sterilising his blades and shears when a tinny tinkle sounded, signalling the opening of the front door.

_The shit?_  He was sure he’d locked up already.

“We’re closed!” Guan Shan called out. Plastered on a smile. Peered round a glass shelving unit. What dumbfuck had walked in thinking they’d be open this time of the night?

Beyond the ceiling-to-floor windows that fronted the salon was a coastal city carved from stone and darkness, and a sun that never rose above the horizon. And, from said darkness, strolled in a fiery figure in combat boots and leather pants.

“Damn. You’re closed already?” A voice like burnt silk, breathless and blistering. Golden skin glistering in the ghostly halo spilling from streetlamps. Obsidian hair swilling around a face made entirely of angles positioned in perfect opposition.

“Uhm,” Guan Shan mumbled, stepping tentatively towards the reception parlour. “We close at six on weekdays.”

A burst of frigid air blasted through the open door as an arctic breeze blustered through the streets. Guan Shan shuddered in his light-weight shirt and slim-fit slacks. “Why don’t you come in? I'll book you in with one of the stylists.”

Another tinny tinkle as the door swished close. The subtle creak of leather. The heavy thud of boots on hardwood flooring.

Rounding the front desk, Guan Shan logged into the computer and double-tapped the icon designated to their scheduling software. He ignored the shadow that fell over him as the man loomed over the high-top counter, and equally ignored the arms corded in brutal, burly muscle as they folded casually on smooth veneer.

“Have you been before, Mr…?” Guan Shan asked, although he wasn’t sure why he bothered; not only did the man’s cabana boy complexion and single-layered attire single him out in a city that spent the year basking in polar nights and sub-zero temperatures, but Guan Shan would have remembered a customer like him.

When the stranger shifted with a rasp of leather, a coiling scent of diesel and volcanic ash surrounded Guan Shan, igniting something carnal and capricious in his core.

_Yeah._

Guan Shan would have  _definitely_  remembered him.

“He Tian,” the man replied with a quirk of his mouth, a red diamond between gilded dimples. “I was kinda hoping you could just fix me up real quick.” He flicked his fingers at the black bangs arcing over his forehead and dipping low to caress the flare of feathering black lashes. “I’m just passing through. Probably won’t even be in town when you next have an available slot.”

Guan Shan studied the mess of dark hair, tangled and untamed. A wild thing. Although, not as wild as the mischief and mirth in a pair of grey-ash eyes.

“We have a strict policy on walk-ins,” Guan Shan pointlessly recited; he’d already decided he was going to get his hands in those luscious, wayward locks. “But, maybe I could trim the ends for you?”

He Tian leaned forward a little further, his short-sleeved Henley stretching in interesting ways over square shoulders and a sinuous chest. A flash of white against red: sharp incisors teasing the swell of a lower lip. “Maybe you could.”

_Fuck._

Guan Shan wasn’t used to this: frank interest and brazen flirting. And he wondered, for a second, about the prudence of playing with a complete stranger, of toying with sin in skin-tight leather.

But only for a second.

Because those grey eyes were on him – studying him – like the man could read his every thought.

Subdue his every doubt.

And sate his every need.

A hot, hungry thing settled low in the pit of Guan Shan’s stomach; a need he’d been neglecting for a while.

The man was a customer, though. And this was work.

Diligence, not dalliance, paid the bills.

And Guan Shan had plenty of bills to pay.

Switching the computer screen off, he pushed away from the desk. “This way.”

He led He Tian to his station, feeling the rake of a voracious gaze as it roamed down his back and settled somewhere around his ass. And,  _fucking-A_ , it made him wonder what underwear he’d put on that morning. It wasn’t laundry day yet and there was a very real possibility he was wearing his time-battered Hello Kitty boxer briefs – a sobering thought that reaffirmed he was _not_ getting his dick wet tonight.

Once He Tian had settled into the swivel chair, Guan Shan snagged a waterproof cape from the rack. Draped it around a broad chest and fastened it around He Tian’s bulwark neck.

“Not too tight?” Guan Shan asked, letting his cool fingers linger on the scalding skin of a sizzling nape.

A rustle of nylon as He Tian shrugged his shoulders. “You could go tighter,” he confessed, his tone light, at first, then dropping low. “But we’d need to have a conversation about safe words and safe signals first.”

Guan Shan spluttered and He Tian chuckled in turn, the sound stoking traitorous embers of arousal within Guan Shan.

Whilst his face pricked uncomfortably, Guan Shan washed his hands in the nearest sink. Dried them more than was necessary. Busied himself with lining his tools on the top tray of his equipment trolley.

Finally, when it felt like he might have regained some semblance of control, he turned back to He Tian.

“When did you last have it cut?” He threaded his fingers through the length of black hair. It was soft and frayed like feathers. And made his fingertips tingle. And his toes twitch.

“I usually do it myself,” He Tian replied, leaning into Guan Shan’s touch. “There aren’t many barbers where I’m from.”

Humming, Guan Shan twirled a lock of hair around his index finger before tracing a path down the curve of He Tian’s head, pressing softly into warm skin. “How about we keep the length at the top of your head, and taper down to your neckline?”

He Tian glanced over his shoulder. Smiled rakishly. “Sounds a lot more fun than just trimming the ends.”

_That’s because it is._

Spray bottle in hand, Guan Shan squirted a fine mist over He Tian’s hair, watching as the strands curled into damp curlicues around tawny ears and over a tawny neck. He fingered through the wet locks. Freed a few tangles. Scratched subtly at He Tian’s scalp.

And stilled when He Tian moaned, the sound guttural and deep in his throat. “Do that again.” A screeching squeak as he leaned back into the protesting chair, spreading his thick, leather-clad thighs further apart.

Thick, powerful thighs that made Guan Shan salivate.

He weaved his fingers through He Tian’s hair again. Front to back. Back to front. Sideburns to scalp. Slow. Steady. An occasional tug that shouldn’t have felt as sensual as it did.

The guttural growl melted into a husky groan. “I bet all the guys come flocking to your chair.”

Guan Shan’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. Lightly, his wet fingers trailed down the sides of a muscular neck. A drop of dew slid down a sinew in a tantalising trail. And, when He Tian shuddered, Guan Shan pulled back,  _berating_  himself – because he wasn’t supposed to be fucking around.

Picking up his clippers, Guan Shan snapped on a guard. Switched the device on. Guided He Tian’s head forward, chin to chest. With the motor whirring a mellow buzz, he started at the nape, shaving the hair down to short strands close to the skin. He worked his way upwards, intermittently trading the guard for a different size for a seamless taper.

“How you doing?” Guan Shan asked, as he swapped his clippers for a trimmer.

“Good,” came the reply, laced in languor and lassitude. “Great, even. I could do this all night.”

“Well, my clippers don’t have enough juice to go all night.”

“I wasn’t talking about your clippers,” He Tian remarked, dry amusement lilting his voice.

Clearing his throat, Guan Shan fumbled with the trimmer before saying, “I’m just gonna clean up the perimeter. Do you normally go rounded or squared off?”

He Tian reached behind him to grab the outer aspect of Guan Shan’s thigh, jolting him. “Tell me about your curves and I’ll tell you about mine.” Knead. Stroke.

The hankering in Guan Shan’s stomach reared its head, receptive and ravenous. And his mouth went dry with how the heat from that broad palm seared right through the cotton fabric of his slacks.

When, shamelessly, the hand started skittering towards his inner thigh, Guan Shan swatted at it. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

He Tian’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Only if you promise to do the exact opposite.”

With what he hoped sounded like an exasperated huff and not a hungry whimper, Guan Shan angled He Tian’s head to the side and slowly circled the chair as he worked on a crisp finish to He Tian’s hairline. He was trimming the curved outline at the side of He Tian’s head, curling a soft ear over itself, when He Tian grunted like he was in pain. “Hang on.”

“Huh?”

The unmistakable pop of a button and hiss of a zipper.

Guan Shan’s eyes widened as He Tian adjusted himself under the cover of the cape and got comfortable in the seat again. When both trimmer and Guan Shan remained still and silent, He Tian glanced up. Titled his head. Arched a long, glossy brow.

“What? My ears are directly linked to my cock.”

“The fuck they are,” Guan Shan blurted and promptly winced when he realised his lapse in professionalism.

He Tian grinned. “I could demonstrate, if you like. How my boy twitches every time you touch my ears.”

Pressing his lips together into a thin line – because the alternative was thinking about them wrapped around certain twitching appendages – Guan Shan flipped his trimmer back on. Snaked swiftly around He Tian’s head. Paused when he reached the other ear.

“Could I ask you to pull it down?” Guan Shan requested, refusing to do so himself despite his scepticism of He Tian’s statement.

“Are you asking me to… play with myself?” A question that was more a challenge.

Guan Shan bristled, partly due to indignation, but mostly because the mental image of He Tian getting himself off as Guan Shan watched made the pure, simmering need in his core spike.

“Your options are: pull your damn ear out of the way or risk getting cut.”

A gravelly rumble. “I’ll let you cut me if you lick it better afterwards.”

_Fucking perv._

Only, Guan Shan wasn’t sure who was more debauched – He Tian for persistently propositioning him, or himself for having already imagined all the decadent sounds he could elicit by licking those sensitive ears.

_Shit._

At the rate they were going, this haircut was going to take all.

Fucking.

Night.

Steeling himself, Guan Shan tugged He Tian’s ear out of way – rougher than he would normally have been with a client – and whizzed the trimmer in a swift arc. He didn’t miss the way He Tian stiffened. The way his thighs tensed. The way he sighed softly through parted lips when Guan Shan let go.

“You’re such a tease,” He Tian breathed.

“And  _you_  are intolerable.”  _Jackass. Dickwad. Oversized musclehead with your sexy ass leather and sexy as fuck hair._

Guan Shan dropped the trimmer into the tray and snapped up his comb and texturizing shears.

“I’m told I’m more tolerable with my shirt off,” He Tian offered, swivelling the chair around to face Guan Shan. Only for Guan Shan to spin the seat back so that He Tian was facing forward again.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. And started sifting through the waves at the top of He Tian’s head with his barber comb.

“I have it on good authority that the best way to get me to shut up is to put something in my –” He Tian’s attempt at wit was cut off with a snarl. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Guan Shan released his twisting hold of He Tian’s earlobe.

He Tian visibly trembled in the back-quilted seat. “I almost came. Give a guy some warning next time, yeah?”

“You fucking –” Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Guan Shan kept his mouth firmly shut as he swiftly started chopping through layers of black silk, methodically transforming the abandoned mess into a work of art.

Once he was done, he deposited his tools back into the tray with a loud clatter, and nabbed the neck duster from the second drawer in his trolley.

“We’re almost done,” he announced – which He Tian said absolutely fuck all to.

Guan Shan dismissed the little niggle of concern at He Tian’s silence. But couldn’t help wondering if he’d been too rough with his hands. Too cruel with his words.

If his actions meant He Tian was over him already.

Unfastening the collar, Guan Shan pulled the nylon cape away from him. Shook it off. Hung it over the side of his trolley. As he dusted away at the scattered, shorn strands on He Tian’s nape, ears and shoulders, he watched for any imperceptible quivers or shivers that might suggest He Tian was still into this.

But.

Nothing.

Not a wave, ripple or wrinkle in the statuesque figure in the swivel chair.

_Ah, fuck._

Why did He Tian’s indifference make Guan Shan feel like utter shit?

Wordlessly, with a hand that wasn’t as steady as it had been when holding clippers, trimmers and shears, he returned the neck duster to its place. Palmed open a small tub of styling wax and dipped a finger in. As he rubbed the spearmint-scented product into his hands, he walked round to stand in front of He Tian.

Eyes smouldering coals of smoke and firelight. Mouth a sullen twist of red. Hair an obsidian of wreckage and resplendence.

He Tian didn’t look pissed, exactly. But Guan Shan couldn’t quite name that expression either. A mixture of what he thought might be perturbed agitation and perplexion.

“Do you want me…” Guan Shan licked his parched lips, looking over He Tian’s head rather than directly into his darkened eyes. “Do you want me to style it?”

For an eternity, there was nothing. No words or utterances. The silence a weighted, suppressive thing that was making Guan Shan’s chest seize up.

Then, finally, “Am I reading you wrong?”

The raw silk of his voice was nothing like the cavorting, cocky rumble Guan Shan had heard so far. It was ragged. Uncertain. And drew Guan Shan to meet his gaze, letting those burning grey eyes pin him like a butterfly to a board.

“If I…” He Tian’s murmur trailed off. “If I misread you… If I mistook your awareness of me as interest... I – I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

Fuck fuck _fuck._

“You didn’t misread me.” Guan Shan’s words tumbled out in a tailspin of nerves and stuttering syllables. “But you came in for a haircut. And you should let me finish.”

A tender smile lit He Tian’s face. “Is that right?” And quickly dissolved into a saucy and secretive thing that reignited a perverse, primal hunger in Guan Shan. “You always gotta finish first, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, Guan Shan muttered under his breath. “Dick.”

“What was that?” The mirth was back in He Tian’s eyes, twinkling and teasing. “You wanna see my dick? Show me yours first.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. “Fuck off.”

He Tian bit his lip. “I like the way you say ‘fuck’.” And,  _dammit all_ , Guan Shan wished  _he_ was the one doing the biting.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Guan Shan repeated, if only to watch the smoulder in He Tian’s eyes warp into something molten. He took a step towards the swivel chair. “Let me,  _fucking_ , style your hair.”

He Tian smirked. “ _Yeah_. Come at me.”

“How do you want it?”

“I want you to make me look–” He Tian lurched forward and snared Guan Shan’s waist, sending him tumbling into a leather-clad lap “– undone. In a sex kinda way.”

Guan Shan could feel the chair beneath them quake with their combined weight. He attempted to get off, but only half-heartedly; the heady scent of diesel and volcanic ash was luring him in, the feel of powerful, tense thighs pulled him under like an anchor, and the lewd suggestion of a red, red mouth snapped Guan Shan’s self-control in half.

His cock throbbed, thickening in the tight confines of his pants. And his balls tightened and tingled with the promise of a climax.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He Tian’s hands were a heavy, heated press of inferno against Guan Shan’s hips. “Do my hair.”

Guan Shan nodded, words and sense and sanity escaping him because all he could think about was the all-consuming  _need_  incinerating his insides. That, and the man who would slake it.

Letting muscle-memory take over, he slid his hands into He Tian’s silky strands. Moulding. Melding. And moaning when He Tian met Guan Shan’s ministrations with his own: a sizzling hand that snaked down the back of his slacks and boxer briefs to cup the rounded muscle of his ass.

“ _Fuhhhck_ ,” Guan Shan bit out, pulling at He Tian’s hair when his cock twitched painfully.

“That what you want?” He Tian asked. Kneading. Heat. Squeezing. Heat. Gripping.  _Heat_. “You want me to fuck you?” Guan Shan swallowed a whimper. “You wanna fuck me?” He Tian nudged the thumb of his free hand into Guan Shan’s mouth. Probed the pointed end of a retracted fang. “Or do you wanna bite me?”

Guan Shan sobbed; a dry, desperate cry that sounded nothing like him. He leaned into He Tian and finally – _finally_  –  buried his face into the crook of a thickset neck, breathing in cinders and fire and flame.

_“Please,”_ he begged, blunt-tipped fingers digging into He Tian’s shoulders.

The bruising hold He Tian had on his left ass cheek gentled into a caress. “Yeah. Okay. But just a taste.”

Frantic, Guan Shan sniffed along a taut tendon in He Tian’s neck, salivary glands already kicking in. But, out of nowhere, strong fingers snagged his chin and forced him to face He Tian’s glare head on.

“I mean it,” He Tian cautioned, the octave of his voice a threatening tone that thrummed straight through Guan Shan’s chest and down to his aching cock. “Try and make a meal outta me and I’ll have you for dessert. And, trust me, I won’t leave a fucking morsel behind.”

A frisson of fear prickled down Guan Shan’s spine.

_What…?_

And, it hit him then, as he sat there straddling a body of gilded sharp lines and even sharper angles: the man before him was nothing like the scrawny humans who occasionally washed ashore on the city’s sleepy coast, dazed and delirious.

He Tian looked nothing like them.

Fuck knew he smelled more like liquid lava than a wind-blasted, frostbitten spawn of Adam.

And Guan Shan was willing to bet he’d taste nothing like the metallic, acidic mouthful of a malnourished almost-corpse lost at sea.

He’d been so wrapped up in this fast-paced game of taste and temptation, Guan Shan hadn’t registered just how…  _unhuman_  He Tian was.

“Come on. Get your red on. I wanna fuck you.” He Tian jostled Guan Shan with a flex of his firm thighs.

Slowly, Guan Shan’s sidelong gaze strayed towards the shelving unit, because in this city where residents lacked reflections and mirrors were redundant, sometimes the smooth surface of glass was enough to subvert a magical masking.

And.

There.

The swivel chair that still, somehow, remained intact and upright. Yet, in the reflective glass, it only bore the weight of a single man. A man with a staggering pair of horns, rising from an abyss of flyaway locks to curl into savage points. A man with a whipcord of a tail, twice his length, thrashing back and forth in vicious sinewaves. And – when Guan Shan tuned in – the subsonic  _crack, snap, howl_  of that tail made the fine hairs on his forearms stand on end.

A man with Hell’s fire scintillating under his skin.

_Shitshitshitshit._

What the fucking shit was a _demon_ doing in the city?

And what the ever.

Loving.

Fuck.

Was Guan Shan still doing in his lap?

“Hey, what’s wron–”

Guan Shan scrambled out of the chair, dislodging He Tian’s hold on him and tripping over long, long legs in the process.

“You need to go,” Guan Shan stammered, his voice pitched higher than he would have liked.

A furrow of brows. A quizzical frown. A flicker of concern in grey eyes. “What?”

“You need to leave. Now.”

He Tian scowled. A curve of caution and confusion. “The fuck? I thought–”

“No.” Guan Shan shook his head, scurrying back a few steps. Suppressed the urge to flee. Stole a skittish glance at the store-front windows to see if anyone had seen him necking a fucking demon.

He Tian stood up from the chair, his size and height a reminder of how imposing he was. Powerful. Perfect. “Just like that? No?”

The softly spoken words, splintered and sibilant, had Guan Shan gazing up at He Tian. Into a face shadowed by dissent and dismay.

And something sad and soft tugged at Guan Shan. But… demons were masters of deception and he refused to be played.

Any more than he already had been.

When moments of silence past, punctuated only by the swish of an agitated tail, He Tian nodded. A small, subtle motion. And zipped himself back up.

“How much do I owe you? For, uh… ” He Tian twirled a finger at the side of his head, looking anywhere but at Guan Shan.

“It’s on the house.” Guan Shan swallowed, struggling to say the words because all he wanted to do was start over. Pretend he was still blissfully ignorant of He Tian’s true nature. Climb on top of him.

Taste him.

Ravage him.

And be ravaged in turn.

Another nod. Curt. And colder than the first.

Then He Tian was walking away, his footfalls a threnetic thudding that culminated in a tinny tinkle.

As the front door swooshed close, Guan Shan shivered. Hugged himself.

Because He Tian had taken all the warmth in the salon with him.

❈      ❈      ❈

“Holy fuck,” Guan Shan breathed into the quiet, his voice quivering between relief and regret.

A demon.  _Here_  in the city. Walking amongst Guan Shan’s kind like he wasn’t a threat. Like he wasn’t a danger in all his golden, obsidian, red-diamonded glory.

“Fuck, I almost had sex with him.”

A thick-muscled ass in liquid leather. A sexy as sin smile. An honest hunger in haunting eyes.

He needed to tell someone, didn’t he? The Council? They’d need to know about a demon encroaching on their territory.

Except… it didn’t feel right. To surrender the secrets shared in spark-fire moments.

All He Tian needed to do was leave as he’d said he was going to. Leave the city before anyone else caught onto what he was.

No one had to get hurt.

Ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest, Guan Shan took a deep breath, hoping it would centre him. But the lingering notes of diesel and desire, of lava and lust, only made him feel lost. And left behind.

Demon, he reminded himself. Demon. Demon. Demon.

He occupied himself with mundane thoughts – laundry, bills, groceries – as he wiped down his station. Brushed up fallen feathers of black. Sterilised his equipment.

It was late by the time he’d finished wrapping up; taking out the trash, emptying the till, and turning down the lights. He exited the salon with a weary sigh. Lowered the shutters and locked the front door.

Then bit back a fuck-almighty scream when he noticed a lofty figure leaning against the adjacent wall.

“ _Shit,”_  Guan Shan hissed, his voice shrill in the darkened, empty street. “I thought I told you to leave!”

Grey eyes met his with a smoulder of need and indecision. “I did leave.” A drawl. Lazy. Low. “You just didn’t say how far I should go.”

And it was then that Guan Shan noticed how frigid air met fiery skin in a sizzle of steam, wisps of white languidly drifting up into the night.

_Oh, mother of fuck._

He was  _smoking;_  his entire body a bonfire bleeding into the cold in curling fumes of heat and fervour.

Guan Shan threw a panicked look over his shoulder, quickly scanning the sidewalks and confirming there were no witnesses.

“You dumbfuck,” he seethed, grabbing He Tian by the front of his Henley. “Get inside. You’re – you’re  _combusting._ ”

A nonchalant half-shrug as He Tian allowed Guan Shan to drag him up to the entrance of the salon. “Happens when I’m worked up.”

_“‘Happens when I’m worked up.’“_  Guan Shan mimicked with a sneer. Whilst he fumbled with the store’s keys, He Tian canted over him and – all casual-like – pushed the door open. The door that Guan Shan had most  _definitely_  locked. “How did you–” He sputtered.

“After you,” He Tian grinned with a circular flick of his wrist.

Storming inside, Guan Shan flung the keys and his messenger bag onto the reception desk. “Don’t use your demon mojo on my mom’s salon.”

He Tian strolled in, letting the door tinkle shut behind him. He quirked his brow. “My demon mojo?”

“ _Yes._  You can’t just spit smoke and magic and not expect anyone to notice.”

Narrowing his eyes, He Tian folded his arms. The brawn and bulges a distraction Guan Shan  _so_ did not need right now. “You think… I’m a demon?”

Patience wearing thin, Guan Shan set his jaw. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw the horns. The tail. I…” He licked his lips as he gathered his scampering thoughts. “I won’t tell anyone. But you  _need_  to leave the city, like, yesterday.”

The smoky mist around He Tian was receding, but there was still a glister to his skin, one that was made all the more prominent in the darkness of the store. “I’m not a fucking demon.”

“Right,” Guan Shan scoffed, sitting on the edge of the desk. “So, the fire show is just… what? A circus act?”

He Tian thinned his lips into a contemplative seam, rapt regard boring into Guan Shan. “When’s the last time you saw a demon?”

“Why does that matter?” Guan Shan asked, dismissive.

“Because,” He Tian started, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Guan Shan. “Demons have forked tails, not pointed ones. And, instead of spiral horns, they’ve got two short, stubby things growing out of their skulls that look like stunted dicks.” He Tian stopped in front of Guan Shan. Rested a hand on the wooden surface on either side of him. Leaned in. “Demons are the scum of Hell. And, frankly, I’m insulted you think I look anything like one.”

Guan Shan blinked. “B-but…” This close, the heady incense of ash was messing with his head. Again. “You _are_ from Hell, right? You shouldn’t be here in –”

“Your council folk were informed I’d be passing through.”

“They were?” A succession of bewildered blinks.

He Tian smiled sagaciously. “Sure.”

Dazed, Guan Shan tried to connect the disjointed dots but didn’t seem to have enough string. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

With a push of his palms, He Tian propelled himself away from the desk. Started pacing. “I’m looking for something.” A cryptic, almost incoherent mumble.

“Looking for what?”

“Something I… lost.”

Guan Shan huffed. Levelled He Tian with a pointed look. Waited him out.

Running a hand through his freshly cut hair, He Tian exhaled loudly. “I’m not supposed to be…” He let the sentence hang for a beat. And paced some more. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Let’s just say that this…  _something_ was locked up, chained down and buried six shades under for the last teraannum. And now… now it isn’t.”

Oh, shit.

“It escaped? How is that even possible?” Guan Shan studied He Tian as he continued to pace up and down the parlour. The tense lines of his square jaw, shoulders and back cut a sharp silhouette in the shadows. “And, why is that your problem?”

The dissonance of thuds halted. “As a Guardian of Hell, it kinda defaults to being my problem.”

  _No fucking way._

Except, it wasn’t loud enough in his head.

“No fucking way,” Guan Shan exclaimed, eyes widening; Guardians were the gatekeepers of Hell, enforcers of perdition, custodians and commanders of the Devil’s army of hellhounds.

“Way,” He Tian intoned. Made his way back to the desk. Perched next to Guan Shan. “And, as an especially conceited Guardian, I reserve the right to act out any punishments I see fit should you compare me to a dick-headed demon again. Fuck you very much.”

Unable to help the smile that stole his lips, Guan Shan wondered what He Tian would think, say, do if he knew Guan Shan had initially mistaken him for mere human. “My bad.”

“Petition to make that our safe word.” A cheeky grin that filtered into a familiar chuckle when Guan Shan elbowed him in the side. “So… we good?”

“I’m not gonna try and chase you outta town again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He Tian pressed the length of his arm against Guan Shan’s, a sweltering weight that made Guan Shan’s want to melt in all kinds of ways. “No, that’s not what I’m asking.”

Guan Shan ducked his head, suddenly feeling self-conscious because,  _fuck_ , what did a Guardian of Hell see in _him?_ “Is it not?”

Playfully, He Tian nipped at Guan Shan’s shoulder. “You want me to spell it out?”

Cheeks prickling with more than just He Tian’s body heat, Guan Shan tried to think of all the reasons this was a bad, bad idea – every single one of which promptly disintegrated to dust when He Tian whispered into his ear, “If I let you have a taste, will you let me have one too?”

The blistering breath of sparks and sizzles made Guan Shan wonder if his ears were directly connected to his cock too.

And, when he turned his head, He Tian was right there. All up in his space. Barely a breath away. Those red, kissable-lickable-fuckable lips within tongue-darting distance.

“You threatened to eat me,” Guan Shan murmured, feeling his insides knot up in anticipation.

“Only if you sucked me dry.” A pause. A snicker. And then two sets of laughter, one deep and delicious, the other husky with hunger. “You know what I mean; the kind that involves your fangs. For the record, I would absolutely  _not_  object to you trying to suck me dry through my dick.”

Guan Shan turned his body into He Tian’s, hands grasping corded forearms to pull himself closer to that hearth. He walked his fingers up the back of He Tian’s neck. Followed the curve of his head. Tangled his hands in black tresses.

Thick lashes lowered to half-mast. Grey eyes darkened with desire. Golden skin flushed with a different kind of fire.

“Just a taste,” Guan Shan promised, guiding He Tian’s head lower. Closer. Ghosting his lips over red, red diamond.

“Remember our safe word?” He Tian asked, the question more a rumble than an utterance.

“Demon.” A whisper. A protest stolen from parted luscious lips as Guan Shan closed the distance between them. A press of mouths. Tentative. Then torched. And, throughout, hunger heat hunger.

When He Tian grabbed his waist, hauling him into his lap, Guan Shan twisted his fingers further in obsidian hair. Angling He Tian’s head. Asking him to open up.

To open the  _fuck_  up.

And when he did, a searing tongue met Guan Shan’s with a slide and swirl of liquid lava. Filling the empty crevices of his mouth. Burning him. Branding him.

A litany of moans, gasps and hitched breaths melted into a song of sinful sounds between wet, needy, starving mouths.

Guan Shan took a chance and nipped lightly at He Tian’s tongue – and was rewarded with a ravenous growl that started low in He Tian’s throat, and then thundered through the expanse of his chest, sending sweet, sweet tremors to the cock Guan Shan was pressing into taut abs.

Then He Tian was undressing him. Undoing his fly and pulling down his pants. Popping off his slip-on shoes. Their lips parted with a lewd smack as He Tian ripped the light-weight shirt off over Guan Shan’s head. And met again with lewder, louder sounds that betrayed their lust and lubricity.

Cock throbbing, pulsing,  _aching_ , Guan Shan didn’t register, at first, that the noises He Tian was making were words, dampened and dented by the hungry mews Guan Shan was feeding him.

“What?” Guan Shan panted, pulling back. Lips sore, scorched, and wanting more more more.

“I said,” He Tian replied with a smirk. “I took you for a dog person.” And pointedly looked down at Guan Shan’s underwear.

A faded print of a cat with soulless eyes and a slanted bow. “Oh, fuck.”

“ _Yeah._ ” With both hands, He Tian palmed his ass over the boxer briefs. “Say more. Talk dirty to me.”

Mortified, Guan Shan buried his face against the side of He Tian’s head. Breathed in the calming aroma of spearmint-scented styling wax. “Laundry day isn’t for another week,” he whined by way of explanation.

“Alright, I shoulda been more specific. I meant dirty sex talk, not dirty laundry.” He Tian patted his ass. “Besides, why are you embarrassed? This is easily fixable.”

But Guan Shan  _was_  embarrassed. And drawing endless parallels between Hello Kitty meeting slick, suave leather and him hooking up with a hot-as-fuck stud from Hell.

His inner turmoil was cut short, though, when He Tian snapped the elastic band around his waist. Slid the pink-and-blue fabric down his thighs and over his calves. And pitched it across the parlour, letting the darkness swallow Hello Kitty whole.

“Better?” He Tian enquired. Only his eyes were cast low, focused on the twitching, jutting cock between Guan Shan’s pale thighs. “Yeah, much better,” he said to himself.

Guan Shan gasped when a hot knuckle trailed along the underside of his cock, simultaneously making him want to lean into the touch, but also away because the heat against his cooler skin was a fraction too much. Too little. Not enough.

“Now, where were we?” He Tian wondered aloud, tone dark and honeyed. He started to idly stroke Guan Shan’s length with the pads of his fingers; feather-light, teasing traces of fire that were setting Guan Shan alight.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying so  _fucking_  hard not to rut against that hot, heated palm. But his hips were swaying in subtle, wanton waves, and –  _fuck fuck fuck_  – when He Tian’s fingers skimmed down to caress the sensitive skin between his balls and cock, Guan Shan bit into the space between his own thumb and forefinger, letting the soft flesh muffle his cry.

“I asked you a question.” He Tian gently pulled Guan Shan’s hand away from his mouth. Kissed the wet imprint of desperate teeth marks. “Where. Were. We.” Grate. Grumble. Grind.

Stuttered breaths landing hot and heavy, Guan Shan moaned into He Tian’s ear.

“What’s that?” Another slow, deliberate stroke down his cock.

“You were…” Hiss. Heave. Swallow. “Tongue-fucking me.”

“Oh.” The loose grip around his cock halted. “ _Oh._  You thought… you thought that was me tongue-fucking you?” He Tian chuckled, both hands now back on Guan Shan’s ass. “Nah. That was just a bit of foreplay. A  _prelude_  to foreplay even. Nothing serious.”

_Fuck_ , Guan Shan wanted to scream and scrape and slice into the succulent flesh of He Tian’s neck and suck and surrender and  _beg beg beg._

_“Please.”_

“You want me to show you?” He Tian nuzzled along the line of Guan Shan’s jaw. Behind his ear. Into his hair. “What a real–” sizzling fingers brushed against Guan Shan’s hole “–tongue-fucking feels like?”

A choked sound. And then Guan Shan savagely bit into the curve of He Tian’s ear.

_“Fuck!”_  He Tian grunted. Dug his fingers into the tight muscle of Guan Shan’s ass. Grunted again when Guan Shan only bit deeper.  _“You little shit.”_

“Don’t,” Guan Shan lisped around the sliver of skin and cartilage, before finally letting go. “Tease me.”

He hadn’t done any real damage; his fangs weren’t even out yet. But ash-grey gave way to blazing embers anyway.

“Damn vamp. I aint stopping til you  _scream_  that fucking safe word.” And, in a blur of motion and snarls and scalding clutches, He Tian lifted them off the desk. Hoisted Guan Shan across the reception area. And dropped him onto one of couches in the parlour, plush throw cushions bouncing in every direction.

Guan Shan scrambled to right himself, because – as naked and as sprawled as he was – he’d never felt so exposed. Or vulnerable. And he didn’t like it.

“Show me your ass,” He Tian growled.

“Fuck off.” Vulnerable was not a state he was used to. And he bristled with the need to lash out. For a snap second, Guan Shan could taste the word ‘demon’ on his tongue.

But then a resonant rumble rolled into a crash of lips as He Tian claimed Guan Shan’s mouth. He relayed his greed and urgency by way of eager kisses, and licked a restless request against Guan Shan’s lips. Nibbled on the lower one. Pinched it with his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” He Tian asked, his lips redder than they had been. A glistening sheen. A plump puffiness.

Hunching his shoulders, Guan Shan frowned. “You said if I showed you mine, you’d show me yours.”

For a lasting moment, He Tian considered him with a sobering look on his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” A small smile. A rustle as He Tian sat down next to him. A susurrus as he cupped one side of Guan Shan’s face. “This only works if we’re both into it. Just… if I’m fucking up, tell me.” An unsure pause. “Don’t push me away and not tell me why.”

Guan Shan looked down at his hands. Picked at a tassel on the corner of a throw cushion. “I’m naked. You’re not.”

He Tian snickered. Stole a quick kiss. Stood up. “Again, easily fixed.” A flex of arm muscles. A Henley shirt riding high on a toned midriff. A ripple of abs as it was peeled off.

And a sharp sound as Guan Shan sucked in a breath.

Salivated.

Squirmed when his cock thickened.

He Tian’s colossal chest was a glorious landscape of gilded slopes and slants, curves and chisels, and miles and miles of glistering gold. And, just over his left pec, below the crest of his collarbone, was the seal of Hell, branded onto his skin.

Bones.

Soul.

_Shit._  He really was a Guardian.

“Hurt like a bitch when I got it,” He Tian remarked, noting Guan Shan’s interest. “Worth it, though. What do you think? Does it make me look like a badass?”

Guan Shan squinted. Tilted his head. Pretended to think about it. “I think I need to see the whole package before I pass that kinda judgement. Take your pants off.”

He Tian laughed. “You smooth fucker,” he rasped, leaning forward to brush his lips against Guan Shan’s. Kisses of silk and flame, of cinders and surrender. And tried to tug his leather pants down at the same time. Only to stumble spectacularly, throwing an arm out to brace himself against the back of the couch before he fell onto Guan Shan.  _“Mother fuck!”_

Suppressing a grin, Guan Shan hummed. “Yeah. A  _real_  badass.”

A non-committal grunt. “Now that you’ve witnessed the demise of my dignity,” He Tian drawled with a roll of his eyes. Kicked off his pants. “Permission to devour you please.”

A thick, dew-tipped cock. Rock-hard and ruddy. Swinging between bestial thighs densely roped with raw power. The glint of a black, circular barbell peeking out from a glistening slit.

“Denied.” And Guan Shan felt the need in his core seize, swarm,  _surge._  “Permission to devour you first.”

❈      ❈      ❈

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, they ended up in the position they were in.

How He Tian had used silk swelter, playful touches and playboy wit to get Guan Shan on top of him. Ass up. Head down. Mouthing at a curved cock nestled in a dusting of soft, black hair.

And tasting male, musk and molten embers.

The metal piercing was a hot, heavy thing against his tongue and, coupled with He Tian’s girth, made for a delicious stretch of lips. Mouth. Jaw.

Behind him, He Tian groaned, the bulk of his quads growing taut with each stroke, suck, suckle. His abs quivering with every flick, flutter, fondle. “ _Fuhhck._ ”

And with every bruising squeeze of tender glutes, Guan Shan tensed. And with every passing lust-laced comment on how pink, puckered and  _tight_  he looked, Guan Shan stiffened. And with every searing, wet swipe along his crack, Guan Shan choked on a breath.

The fierce hunger in the pit of his stomach, at first a slow burn biding its time, was now a blistering need that threatened to scorch his senses.

He planted a kiss on the underside of He Tian’s cockhead. And another over an exquisite, crisp crease where hip met groin. Feeling the beat of a pulse, a familiar thrill of tension and release took hold of Guan Shan – and he curled his toes and fisted his hands as his gums throbbed and his fangs dropped.

“Taste,” he whimpered, his balls drawing tight and his cock leaking a plea onto He Tian’s chest. “I –” A dry sob. A full-body shudder. “ _He Tian._ ”

And He Tian’s answer came in the form of a chaste kiss against Guan Shan’s taint, and a hoarse “One taste, little vamp. Make it last.”

And,  _fuckin’-A_ , did Guan Shan make it last to Hell and back.

The throaty whimper bled into a husky purr as Guan Shan glided his tongue over that sweet pulse, trembling with  _need need need._

Tingling teeth pierced golden skin. Sliced into simmering flesh. Sank deep.

Saliva pooling in his mouth and over his lips, Guan Shan sucked. Drank.  _Tasted._

A liquid-hot crimson of wildfires. Want. And something else that was turbulent and untamed and uniquely He Tian.

Guan Shan’s greedy, wet noises intertwined with He Tian’s hisses and sighs.

And as Guan Shan continued to suck, intermittently lapping at the wound and licking his lips, He Tian pressed his own tongue against Guan Shan’s entrance.

Swirled the puckered flesh. Teased the opening with the tip of his tongue. And then breached it.

And Guan Shan didn’t know if he was cumming.

Or coming apart.

❈      ❈      ❈

An intimate tangle of ivory and gold. A sated predator. His sated prey.

Head resting on a sublimely crafted chest, Guan Shan tuned in to a strange, swift, stentorious drumbeat – so unlike the organ in his own chest, with its protracted rhythm that sibilated a beat only once every few years. He trailed his fingers around a dusky, peaked nipple. Traced the rough, irregular scars that was Hell’s seal on its Guardian.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. How late it was. Or how early. But, judging by how utterly fucked he felt, Guan Shan figured it must’ve been a long-ass while.

When he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, the twinge in his lower back sparked, and the stinging bitemarks on his butt and inner thighs protested – but not as much as the velvet black whip of a tail that was currently wound around a calf and an opposing thigh.

_Oh fucking hell._

Over the course of the night, Guan Shan had come to appreciate that – although tethered to He Tian – the tail was an entity all on its own. One which tightened, thrummed and hissed when Guan Shan tried to loosen its serpentine grasp off his legs.

“Don’t mind him,” came a voice thick with slumber and satisfaction. Eyes closed, He Tian stroked a hot hand – lazy and indulgent – down Guan Shan’s back. “He likes to cuddle after sex.”

Guan Shan scowled. “Except I didn’t have sex with your fucking tail.”

One ash-grey eye peered down at Guan Shan. Menace. Mirth. The hint of a smug smile. “You don’t think he felt every scream?”

Rankled, Guan Shan sputtered a colourful comment about damn prevents as he tried to push off He Tian’s chest. Only for a thickset arm to clench fast and vicelike around his waist.

“The fuck are you going?” He Tian growled, the sound savage and suggestive, making the tempered need low in Guan Shan’s stomach stir with interest.

 “You’re both as bad as each other,” he huffed, settling once again into He Tian’s side.

A snicker. “Trust me. He’s much, much worse.”

An incensed crackle as the tail coiled tight then loose then tight around Guan Shan’s legs.

“How does my hair look?” He Tian prompted, raking a hand through the tumbled tresses.

For a long moment, Guan Shan was drawn in by the sight of two spiral horns – lethal, stunning, majestic; and brimming with Hell’s magic. “Undone,” he said, eventually. And, before He Tian could ask, he added, “In a sex kinda way.”

“Fuck  _yeah,_ ” He Tian hollered, angling his head down so that slick-fire lips could sear a kiss on the tip of Guan Shan’s nose. “Best fucking haircut I’ve ever had.”

Before he could second-guess himself, Guan Shan murmured, “You should… come again some time.”

And, just like that, the light-hearted banter and warm afterglow wilted to a bristling tension.

He Tian hummed. Guarded. Terse.

Swallowing back disappointment and dismay, Guan Shan ventured, “Maybe after you’ve found what you lost?”

“Hm.”

Guan Shan fidgeted with his hands. “You don’t sound so sure.”

The shrug of a broad, rounded shoulder. “Tracking down an angel gone rogue? That’s easily a couple of lifetimes’ worth of work.” And winced when he realised what he’d divulged. “Forget I said anything.”

And, so, for a while, they basked in a tender, tense silence. Guan Shan following the slashes and swerves of Hell’s seal with his fingertips, and He Tian exploring the locks of Guan Shan’s spine.

When the hold around his legs finally slackened, Guan Shan stretched. And stiffened when molten liquid trickled down his thigh.

“What’s wrong?” He Tian looked down at him, lofting a brow.

“Nothing,” Guan Shan said hurriedly.

But, judging from the self-satisfied look on his face, He Tian knew ‘nothing’ translated to several rounds of an insatiable ass sucking his dick dry. “Come here.”

And Guan Shan shimmied higher up He Tian’s chest to meet a red, swollen mouth in a meld of moans and melting kisses.

“What are my chances of another taste?” He Tian whispered.

A velvet steel whip skimmed along the underside of Guan Shan’s ballsack. “Fuck all if you don’t tuck your tail in,” he warned.

A rumbling chuckle. “You’re hurting his feelings.”

But the sight and touch of tail and horn obligingly faded into the darkness of the salon. And the masking reminded Guan Shan that, aside from his bloodlusting nature, He Tian didn’t know anything about him.

“I haven’t told you my na–” Guan Shan stalled as a finger pressed firmly over his mouth.

A sombre tone. Furrow. Frown. “You don’t tell a Guardian of Hell your name. That’s as good as selling your soul to the Devil.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re territorial creatures, each prisoner of perdition a Guardian’s possession. Surrender your name and you’re enslaved for eternity.” He Tian exhaled sharply. “Some of the other guys are into that – snaring lovers, turning them into...” His hand gently cradled the side of Guan Shan’s face. “I wouldn’t want that for you, little vamp.”

Repressing a sting that felt like rejection, Guan Shan tried to organise his thoughts to form a response that wasn’t a crestfallen confession. But his clumsy attempts were cut short by the tinny tinkle of the salon door opening.

Steps. Clatter. A set of voices.

“Wasn’t Mo Guan Shan supposed to open up today?”

_Fuckfuckfuckfu–_

And then Guan Shan was cursing up a storm for a whole other reason when grey-ash eyes flashed and red diamond lips mouthed,

_“Mo Guan Shan.”_

**Author's Note:**

> ❈❈❈ Author's Note ❈❈❈
> 
> So.  
> Uhm...  
> If you made it to the end of this fuckstorm of a fic, please consider dropping me a kudos or comment ~
> 
> Love,  
> Zack
> 
> x


End file.
